Isham Jones was born in Coalton, Ohio on January 31, 1894, but the family had originally resided in Arkansas. His father was a coal mine boss, and while "Ish" (pronounced with a long "I") was still in his youth, the family moved to Saginaw, Michigan where Ish worked in the mines, driving a mule and a string of coal cars until there was a collision with a shaft door. It was then that he decided that music was more appealing and assembled a band for a local church. A banker, who was a member of the congregation, listened to the music and urged him to "go out and blown his own horn."

From an early age, Jones had musical aspirations which were no doubt inspired by his father, who also had an interest in music. He studied piano and saxophone while in grade school and high school. At the age of 20 he formed his own orchestra and played for dances in Saginaw, Bay City and other nearby Michigan towns. A script was submitted to a Saginaw music publisher, and after several other scripts had succeeded, Jones departed for Chicago. After a year of advanced study and working as a saxophonist with several local dance bands, he was ready for the big time.

For the next decade, Jones provided his own musical background of violins, clarinets, saxophones and muted brass for his Tin Pan Alley success story. The songs he wrote and popularized were written specifically for the band he directed. In 1917, while in World War I, Jones, in collaboration with Tell Taylor and Ole Oleson, composed "You're in the Army Now."

In 1922, the Jones band recorded "Wabash Blues" which reportedly sold close to two million copies. In 1923, the American Brunswick Company announced that it had paid him over $500,000 in royalties. Also, during that year, "I'll See You in My Dreams" was his first hit, followed by a rapid succession of songs, including "The One I Love," "Swingin' Down the Lane," "My Best to You," "Wooden Soldier," "China Doll," "No Greater Love," "Indiana Moon," "Thanks for Everything" and "I Can't Believe It's True."

When his wife Marguerita presented him with a piano for his 30th birthday in 1924, he reportedly stayed up all night to complete "Spain," "The One I Love Belongs to Somebody Else," and "It Had to Be You" to insure that the instrument would pay its way. The latter number was later used in some 40 featured films. Also during that year, he took his band to London where he played at the Kit-Cat Club and he is said to have been one of the first to take jazz to Europe. Prior to that tour, he had played at the Lincoln, McAlpin and Commodore hotels in New York City.

Jones described jazz as "modern emotional music. It is expressive of the happy dance; it is rhythm that is simple and yet inspiring. It is music that is irresistible to the feet and at the same time appealing to the heart and head."

In 1927, at the age of 18, Benny Goodman joined the Jones band, then playing at the Million Dollar Rainbow Gardens in Chicago. Goodman reportedly received his highest salary up to that time -- $175 a week.

The recording of Hoagy Carmichael's "Star Dust" in 1931 pushed the band high in popularity and helped establish the song. Also, during that year, Jones composed "I Wouldn't Change You for the World" and "You're Just a Dream Come True," the latter becoming the theme song for the band. Gordon Jenkins, his chief arranger, referred to his songs and bands as "the greatest sweet ensemble of that time or any other time."

Jones wrote more than 200 songs, of which 40 or more became hits. His chief collaborator and lyricist was Gus Kahn who wrote the lyrics for "I'll See You in My Dreams," "No Greater Love" and "The One I Love Belongs to Somebody Else." Those persons who recall the early days of radio will remember Jones on The Big Show in early to mid 1934 and The Chevrolet Show in late 1934-1935.

One of the last bands led by Jones in 1936 was known as the Isham Jones Juniors. The group recorded for Decca and later became the first band led by Woody Herman. The coming of swing and stylized bands gradually discouraged Jones, and he decided to concentrate on writing songs; he was already independently well off from his royalties. He had varied interests in retirement including a general store in Shaffer's Crossing, Colorado. Ill with cancer, he moved from Los Angeles to Hollywood, Florida in 1955. He passed away on October 19, 1956 at the age of 62.

Paul Nero, a talented violinist of the 1940s and 1950s, said of him in a tribute that he set a standard for dance music that was superior to anything that played in dance halls and hotel rooms. If the sidemen and arrangers met his most exacting standards, they somehow managed to get with the band. The list reads like a "who's who" - Gordon Jenkins, Larry Clinton, Victor Young, George Bassman, Woody Herman and Saxie Dowell.

Five out of six musicians who worked for him stated how difficult it was to work for this driver, and six out of six musicians readily admitted that he was one of the finest natural musicians that they had ever known. He drove himself twice as hard as any of his band. His only message was that "it's either good or it stinks."

In his demands on himself and his musicians, he perhaps forgot that everyone did not feel as strongly about his standards as he did. He could be very severe with anyone who did not apply himself, but the very same individuals, whom he had reportedly physically tossed out of his band, were the very same persons who expressed delight about the first time they worked for him. Very few people would admit to having any feeling about him other than one of deep respect.

If Jones had known that someone had written a tribute to him, he would probably have thrown a stack of manuscripts at him. He never suffered from anything resembling the neurotic compulsion to be wanted or loved. What he did for so many people was not motivated by a search for admiration, respect or love. You took him the way he was, or just did not take him at all. If he knew that you were really trying to do your best, that was enough for him. He hated any form of hypocrisy, almost to the point of mania. He admired talent and ability almost to the point of hero worship.

His critics related how conservative he was and how he had the same currency that he first earned at the College Inn. At an ASCAP dinner, Nero mentioned to him his theory that if the dance bands ever came back, his specific style of playing could be the biggest thing that ever happened. He agreed, and three years later, he gave Nero his extensive music library. When Nero attempted to thank him, he screamed that he was an unprintable idiot if he thought he gave it to him because he liked him or wanted thanks. "If I didn't think you could handle this thing," he said, "I wouldn't LEND you one of these arrangements."

During drives with Nero along the Pacific Coast in 1955, he would point out a particularly nice piece of scenery or expound on some philosophy, and he would yell at the top of his lungs when he talked about idiot musicians, or "Don't hand me any of that crap about the band business being dead. Maybe it's sick, so don't stand around crying. Do something about it. Don't wait for anyone else to help you."

He was always up-to-date on the issues of the day; he knew about the commercial possibilities of television and knew the music business had changed.

Jones apparently appreciated strong personalities and would pressure individuals to their limits. When he got Nero angry by accusing him of being a "yellow-livered coward," Nero shouted back to him that he was a "dogmatic old man living in the past." Jones in turn broke into one of those big grins of his and poked Nero with one of his long arms and said, "Well, now, that's the way I like to hear you talk; I was beginning to think you were another one of those sissy fiddle players."

Nero concluded his tribute by saying, "I'm sure going to hate missing the first time you tell off one of those trumpet players up there. Don't be too hard on them. Remember, they didn't have a chance up to now to work with you."

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Courtesy of historian Robert Ervin